First-Person Lamer
by Goudess
Summary: Mulder and Scully, forced by contract to stay in the X-Files for at least six years, investigate a silly, pointless, and irrelevant case when the show's writers dig below their reserves and into the sluge of Crappiness.
1. First-Person Lamer

Title: First-Person Lamer  
Author: Goudess  
E-Mail: queequeg01@excite.com  
Rating: PG (A couple dirty-words.)  
Category:I'd label this as a parody, but then I wouldn't have anything to call the   
episode I'm basing it on.   
Disclaimer: I don't own them! I don't WANT to own them! Demmit!  
Summary: Mulder and Scully, forced by contract to stay in the X-Files for at least six years,   
investigate a silly, pointless, and irrelevant case when the show's writers dig below their   
reserves and into the sluge of Crappiness. But hey, the X-Files is a classic! It can get away   
with an hour of tear-jerking stupidity!   
Spoliers: First Person Shooter. If you haven't seen the episode, this probably won't make much   
sense. It's basically parodying the events that take place during that television hour --   
although, really, nothing can spoil that puss-like cesspool of awfulness. In fact, if you   
haven't been exposed alraedy, I'd advise you not to even -try- and watch it, unless you're in   
for a good cry. Pathetic, pitiful tears. Bah! I'm outraged! Outraged!  
Author's Note: It's a sad day when actual episodes in a beloved series are worse than what   
crappy fan-fiction authors like me can come up with. ^_^ Like most of my humor stories, I   
haven't looked it over since the day I wrote it, so I guess there will be a few errors and   
stuff, I can't be sure, exactly. Heh. Woo! Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy,   
and...well, Enjoy!  
  
  
First-Person Lamer  
(The Lack of Talent is Affordable!)  
  
  
"Woo!"  
  
"Yeah, baaby!"  
  
"Yee haa!"  
  
"I can't get the door open."  
  
"I can't get the door open? What kind of excited lame-o catch phrase type sound is   
-that-?"  
  
Dorky-Nerd pulled at the door again in the small four by four cubicle that the three   
men were cramped in. "No, I mean the -door- is stuck!"  
  
Hunky-Nerd watched curiously. "It's kinda buckling at the edges, is that a good sign?"  
  
Fat-Nerd--  
  
"Woah woah WOAAH! I am not taking that sort of insult, author-person!"  
  
Umm... How about portly?  
  
"No."  
  
Hefty?  
  
"Nuh-uh."  
  
Geez. The Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd?  
  
"Great." He gave a thumbs-up.  
  
Allright. Anyway, Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd tugged at his ridiculously silly-looking  
metallic plastic armor outfit and looked around. "Maybe if you try pushing..."  
  
Dorky-Nerd pushed on the door, and it opened up into a dreary grey room. "Woo hoo!"  
  
"Yeah, baaaby!"  
  
"My suit's riding up on me."  
  
The three scantily clad men darted out, wielding cool looking plastic guns. They got in   
front of a miniature wedge type object that appeared to be made of spray painted styrofoam, and   
waited excitedly, or at least acted like it. A dollar a smile.  
  
"Ooh, look!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd exclaimed, pointing ahead of them. "Cheap   
special effects!"  
  
And sure enough, little green laser lights appeared out of nowhere, and quickly began   
to construct a rousing game of Pong.  
  
"Oooh!"  
  
"Wait, guys! Here they come!" Hunky-Nerd pointed wildly, as a line of guys on   
motorcycles came roaring down the street, right toward them.  
  
"Yeaa!" Dorky-Nerd exclaimed, shaking his gun.  
  
"I hope they don't get hit by the little Pong ball." Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said   
nervously.  
  
"Who hired you, anyway?" Hunky-Nerd snapped.   
  
"I was the only one auditioning for the part."  
  
Dorky-Nerd laughed. "Bet you didn't read the script beforehand."  
  
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd frowned and looked down at the ground. "Yeaah...don't   
remind me."  
  
"Script?" Hunky-nerd asked incredulously.  
  
"Guys, get ready!"  
  
The motorcycle posse rode strong, in a perfect line toward the teeny-tiny styrofoam   
wedge that the three Nerd-igos hid behind. Being polite villain-type-people, they waited   
patiently until all men stood up and aimed before opening fire.  
  
"Whee!" Dorky-Nerd watched as him and his companions took out each and every motorcycle   
guy at point blank range without being touched. "I love cheat codes!"  
  
"Cheat codes?"  
  
"Did I say that out loud?"  
  
"Quiet, you two!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd said. "We have another ultimately   
ridiculous and not at all threatening obstacle to overcome!"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, you just want to get out there and die so you can get this over with."  
  
Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd shrugged. "Let's go!"  
  
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.  
  
They all ran out onto the street, their footsteps echoing along with the pinging noise   
of the Pong game overhead.  
  
Shots rang out from above.  
  
"Snipers! Shoot!"  
  
Gunfire erupted, as the three nerds shot their blasters up into the high towers, and   
the tower men shot back. Bodies fell, blood splayed, and Hunky-Nerd 'whee-ed'.  
  
"Aaah!" Metabolically-Impaired-Nerd cried, as he was hit for the sake of realism in   
this totally mundane and pointless scene, as well as for the fact that his name is the most   
tedious to type out. He fell on the ground, and began spasming.   
  
There was much rejoicing.  
  
"Whee!" Hunky-Nerd said.  
  
Dorky-Nerd ran away for no particular reason, save the fact that it was put in the   
script and he had a death scene to get to. Hunky-Nerd, who was busy 'whee-ing', did not notice   
until it was too late.   
  
The building that Dorky-Nerd entered was dark, gloomy, and ultimately ominous. He   
strutted around a moment, as if stalling for time, before slowly making his way to the door   
that lead to the end of the level. But, as always, a strange form stopped him short.  
  
"Who's there?" He said nervously, obviously forgetting that indeed there was a blaster   
in his hand.  
  
Chris Carter waved a check around temptingly from behind a pillar.  
  
"Ooh, baaaby..." Dorky-Nerd drooled, before running over toward him.   
  
When he got to the pillar, he noted that something was wrong. "Hey..." He said   
thoughtfully.  
  
Very, very, veeeery slowly, his plane of vision went from a latex boot heel to a   
slender, toned calf...a bare thigh, a voluptuous curve, and finally to a face that said "sex   
kitten" all over it.  
  
Dorky-Nerd got out a moist-towelette and carefully wiped the multitude of "sex kittens"   
off the woman's face.  
  
"Thanks." She said.  
  
"No problem."  
  
She adjusted her thong, and patted her hair, making sure to cock her hips just so.   
"So... where you from?"  
  
"Ontario. 24. Male. Brown hair, blue eyes, glasses, but sexy ones."  
  
"Ooh..."  
  
"And you?" He waggled his eyebrows at her.  
  
"Mmm... 21. Female. Video game."  
  
"Oooh. What do you look like?"  
  
"I'm really, really, reaaaly hot. Brown hair, brown eyes, full lips, great body."  
They both blinked, and realized that indeed that they were standing right in front of   
each other.  
  
"Oops," Dorky-Nerd said. "Kind of lapsed into routine, sorry."  
  
"No problem. Can I kill you now?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
Scary X-Filey music played, as she lowered a wicked looking gun to his chest. "This is   
my game." She said sexily and really quite pro-feminist.   
  
Dorky-Nerd lifted his hands. "I'm not arguing with you."  
  
She sighed. "You're supposed to be like, 'what?' and stuff here, you know."  
  
"Oops." Dorky-Nerd put on a blank expression. "What? And stuff."  
  
She gave him a little thumbs-up, then fired.  
  
The screen fizzed, and was overcome by cheap special effects.  
  
Plink...plink...plink... the Pong dot missed the line that was supposed to relay it   
back to the other side of the screen, and sailed off into oblivion.  
  
  
  
  
~X-Files Theme~   
  
Doo doo doo doo doo doo.  
  
Yeah, yeah...anyway...  
  
  
  
  
Fox Mulder, our...pah, hero, walked all Fox Mulderish-like into a dreary grey building   
that bared the sign ~*Free Doughnuts Inside*~. Scully, looking quite not happy to be there, as   
was expected, followed him inside, looking at the sign with a wistful expression.  
  
Mulder heard the door hiss to an ominous close behind him and Scully, before sighing at   
the notice of an empty hallway and a huge life size poster of the three Nerd-igos, which wasn't   
a very pleasant sight.  
  
Mulder sighed. "We always fall for it, don't we?"  
  
"Can't pass up the prospect of free food."  
  
"Now they won't feed us until we finish this." He declared with a frown.  
  
"Let's blame it on swamp gas and get it over with." Scully offered.  
  
Mulder slapped the episode's script on his palm, although it didn't make the satisfying   
~whack~ that he was hoping for...having being composed on two-ply toilet paper. "Think we can   
stretch it for forty minutes?"  
  
She shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe we can get some guy in costuming to throw on a plastic   
garbage bag. He could be the mutated trash swamp monster."  
  
"Scully, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard in my entire life."  
  
"You haven't read the entire script yet, have you?"  
  
Mulder looked at her blankly. "Why?"  
  
Scully rolled her eyes. "You'll see..."  
  
A man waved to them from across the hall. "Hey!" He didn't sound much like he wanted to   
be there.  
  
Mulder looked up, then over at Scully.  
  
Scully shrugged again. "Let's go."  
  
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy waved again. "Get in gear, you two! Move-move-move!"  
  
Mulder looked down at the script and started to read, as he walked down the hall with   
Scully.  
  
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy nodded to them, crisply. "Welcome to   
Last-Minute-Plots, Incorporated."  
  
"Psst." Scully said.  
  
"What?" Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy looked at her blankly, then pulled out a   
huge wad of toilet paper. Unfolding it, he looked down with a large sigh and read.  
  
A long moment of silence passed.  
  
Mulder skimmed it as well, paling a bit at each page...er, or rather, at every downy   
quilted sheet.  
  
Scully stomped her foot. "You're supposed to be all, 'Hey, what are you guys doing   
here', and stuff! This is supposed to be a restricted area!"  
  
Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy scoffed and shoved his script away. "Why? You guys   
are just going to flaaash your badges and I'm going to be like 'oh, I guess I'm just a big dumb   
guard. Go ahead.' It's pointless!"  
  
"It's in the script."  
  
"The script was obviously written on a Sunday night after a burrito binge."  
Suddenly, the Not-Really-Wanting-To-Be-There-Guy was struck by a bolt of lightning,   
although it was kind of hard to distinguish the bolt of electricity between a tear in a piece   
of film, a day-glow pipecleaner, or one of those lines drawn by sports announcers on ESPN.  
  
Another man slid cheerfully into his place. "Hey! This is a restricted area!"  
  
"The door was unlocked." Mulder said.  
  
"Damn..." The Other-Man muttered, looking out. "What nasty thing did -he- say about the   
writers of this episode?"  
  
Mulder lifted his hands and made a 'duhhing' noise. "Don't ask me."  
  
Other-Man shook his head. "Anyway, everything beyond this -point- is a restricted area.   
I'll need to see some ID and do some cool techno-stuff on your eyeballs."  
  
"Oooh." Mulder said.  
  
Other-Man slid into the big Star-Trekky chair behind the desk and pulled out a laser   
pointer. Mulder and Scully held out their badges.  
  
"Okay." Other-Man said, as he ran his pointer over the two computer ID labels that had   
magically manifested themselves onto the Agent's badges, then proceeded to scan Mulder's eyes.  
  
"Aaaah!" Mulder cried, bending over to press his palms into his eye sockets.  
  
Other-Man blanched. "Oops."  
  
"Hey, that thing's pretty cool." Scully said, leaning over a bit.  
  
"Yeah," Other-Man grinned. "Turn this little knobby thing, and you can get an arrow.  
See?"  
  
"Ooooh." Scully ooohed.  
  
Mulder continued to scream some nonsense about being blinded.  
  
"Anyway," Other-Man said, as he turned off the laser pen and pretended to scan Scully's   
eyes. Some guy from sound effects made a buzzing sound. "All done..." He looked over at the   
computer screen, and read it over very professionally:  
  
  
  
Scan: Agent Fox Mulder.   
Scan: Agent Dana Scully  
WARNING: Do not proceed. Please, stop them now! The episode is going to   
chaos! Help me, I'm scared... do something... put on a rerun of M*A*S*H,   
anything! For the love of GOD! I'm only a Macintosh, I don't deserve   
this kind of treatment!   
  
  
  
"Looks okey-dokey." Other-Guy said, flipping off the monitor as quickly as he could.  
  
"Eee!" Mulder cried.  
  
Scully reached over and plucked the laser off from the desk, much to Other-Guy's   
dismay. "Can I have this?"  
  
"Umm..."  
  
"Thanks." She gleefully shone the little red laser around, setting forth a multitude of   
cries from the people backstage and off the set. "Whee-hee!"  
  
Other-Guy shifted away nervously.  
  
"Let's go, Mulder!" Scully said, importantly pointing the laser in the direction of the   
no-longer restricted area.  
  
"Eee!" Mulder cried.  
  
"Oh, stop it." She grabbed his jacket and dragged him down the hallway, shining her new   
toy in every nook and cranny she could find.  
  
"Eee!" Byers cried, covering his eyes.   
  
Frohike covered his mouth and Langly promptly put his hands to his ears.  
  
Scully stared at them.  
  
"That's supposed to be my line." Mulder said, finally.  
  
Scully frowned and pointed the laser at Byers. A little red dot appeared on his   
chest. "Hello Byers." The dot shifted to Frohike, and then finally to Langly. "Hello Frohike.   
Hello Langly."  
  
"Glad you know who we are." Frohike said grumpily.  
  
Langly tried to swat the dot away, but with no avail.   
  
Scully frowned. "I know I'm supposed to be doing something Scully-ish, but frankly I   
forgot."  
  
Langly started tearing at his shirt wildly.  
  
Mulder blinked sharply, having finally stopped screaming on account that everyone,   
including the narrator, had given up on listening to him. "You're supposed to be like all,   
'blah blah blah' and stuff."  
  
"Oh yeah. Bla--"  
  
Byers slapped his forehead. "You're -supposed- to be wondering why you guys are over   
here in the first place."  
  
"I know why," Scully said, waving her hand a bit as she centered her laser on Byers   
instead, on account that she was speaking to him. "There was a sign for free doughnuts."   
  
Mulder nodded empathetically.   
  
Frohike grumbled. "We never get free doughnuts."  
  
Scully clicked off the laser and hit Frohike with it. "Neither do we! It was a trick!   
Now we have to do this episode."  
  
"That Carter guy certainly is clever." Langly mused, re-adjusting his t-shirt.   
  
Mulder rubbed his eyes.  
  
Scully sighed. "Soo..."  
  
Byers tugged at his tie. "Someone died."  
  
Mulder's looked surprised. "Died? Really? Gee, it seems like I always end up going   
somewhere where people have died...freaaaky. Isn't it freaky, Scully?"  
  
"Mulder, you investigate homicides."  
  
"I said 'died'," Mulder corrected indignantly. "Not 'homicide'."  
  
"Is there really much of a difference?" Scully asked.  
  
"Of course! Homicide is a whole four letters longer!"  
  
Scully rolled her eyes.  
  
"Hurry up you guys, before these stupid two-liners wear thin." Byers said, waving his   
hand.  
  
The Lone Gunmen lead Mulder and Scully into a huge white room with nothing in it but a   
staircase and some dead-looking guy.  
  
Langly took off a baseball cap, which had magically manifested itself on top of his   
head, and lowered it to his chest. "Poor Dorky-Nerd."  
  
Scully frowned as a Scully would, as she went down the stairs, marking each one with  
a little flicker of the laser before she made her way across the room and to the corpse.   
"Well..." She said professionally, as she whisked the red beam over him wildly with a twitter   
of her wrist. "He's dead."  
  
Mulder mock-applauded.   
  
Scully narrowed her eyes. "I'm getting to it." She stooped down next to him, holding   
the laser pen neatly in one hand. Carefully, she looked him over.  
  
Frohike psst-ed. "Psst. Scully... look at his chest."  
  
"Oh." Scully lifted her eyes and beam from the man's legs and looked over at his chest.   
There was a plastic armor plating it, with a gigantic hole in it that was tinged in yellow   
silly putty and rusty blood. She frowned, then leaned over, shining her laser light through the   
hole, watching the dot appear on the white-tiled floor on the other side. "Hmmm..." She hmmmed...  
  
Five minutes passed.  
  
Mulder tapped his toe.  
  
Scully flipped off her laser, and looked up at them. "Well, I've come to a conclusion."  
  
Mulder motioned with his hands. "Aaaand..."  
  
"He was shot."  
  
Langly and Frohike darted out to stop Mulder from tackling her. Scully watched him   
struggle and grinned, disco-ing the laser around him tauntingly. "With a gun."  
  
"He couldn't have been murdered." Byers said.  
  
"He wasn't... at least it doesn't seem like it. There's not a touch of--"  
  
"Gunpowder or charring on his chest, that there would be due to the short range at   
which he was shot." Byers finished.  
  
Scully frowned. "Actually, I was going to say that there is not a touch of plausibility   
in this case, and more so -- if this guy was just -murdered-, this wouldn't be the X-Files."  
  
"She's got a point there." Mulder said, tugging out of the computer hackers' grip and   
rubbing his shoulders.  
  
Frohike nodded.  
  
"Woaaah now." Byers said, waving his hands. "Aren't you supposed to be Miss Skeptic,   
here?"   
  
Mulder jabbed a thumb behind him in reply, toward a conveniently opening door.   
  
A cop stepped into the room. "That's me! And it's Mr. Skeptic to you."  
  
Byers slapped his head. "This episode is going to hell."  
  
"Ha, you haven't seen the half of it yet," Mr. Skeptic said with a chuckle.  
  
Scully stood up. "This man was murdered, obviously. But there is no weapon or suspect,   
because he was alone in a room that consisted only of computer generated images. Scientific   
stuff, jargon, jargon, stupid unlikely theory covered up by huge smart-sounding terms."  
  
Mr. Skeptic shook his finger. "Now, that's impossible! This was obviously something   
else!"  
  
"Like -what-?" Mulder put his hands on his hips.  
  
"Like...um...dangit..." Mr. Skeptic pulled out a wad of toilet paper.  
  
Mulder sighed and waved his hand. "Nevermind, nevermind... let's get out of here,   
Scully."  
  
"Hold on, hold on..." Mr. Skeptic held up a finger, losing grip on some of the paper,   
which spilled to the ground in a ribbon and a tiny growing pile. "Almost got it..."  
  
"Just forget it. Geez."  
  
  
  
  
They trudged back upstairs. Well, actually, -Mulder- trudged. Scully walked quite   
amusedly, shining her laser light around.  
  
"Are you sure that thing is safe?" Mulder asked as they made their way down another   
hall, which was precisely the same as the -last- hall, save only the fact that there was no   
Three Nerd-igos poster, but rather a ~*Coffee, Cappuccino, Expresso -- This Way*~ sign.  
  
Scully nodded. "Yeah, I see these things around all the time"  
  
Mulder twisted his face a bit. "Yeah... but I feel this weird tingling... right..."   
He twisted his arm around to touch the small of his back. "Right about here."  
  
Scully quickly flashed the laser away from his back and shook her head quickly. "Nope.   
I was shining it on that Free Coffee sign the whole time."  
  
Mulder nodded slightly, just missing the little laser-dot sized hole in the coat as he   
brought his hand back. "Okay. Just curious."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, well..." Scully coughed nervously. "Hey, isn't that our door?"  
  
Mulder looked over at the door that read -- ~*Some Important Plot Fillers*~ "Think so.   
Shall we get this over with?"  
  
Scully nodded. "Sure."  
  
They entered.  
  
A woman looked up at them from a handful of toilet paper.  
  
"Oh, great," Mulder said.  
  
Scully shined the laser on the woman's chest. "Who are you?"  
  
"Phoebe."  
  
"Phoebe?"  
  
"Phoebe Grey." She replied indignantly.  
  
"Oh." They both said.  
  
Phoebe stuffed the paper in her back pocket. "Agents Mulder and Scully?"  
  
They both nodded.  
  
"I'm Phoebe Grey."  
  
"Um..." Mulder said. "You said that already."  
  
Scully flashed the laser onto Phoebe's back pocket.  
  
She looked down, and pulled out the script again.  
  
A quiet moment passed. Mulder tapped his foot.  
  
"Alright." Phoebe finally said.  
  
"Alright." Scully echoed.  
  
Phoebe stood there idly for a second, and then blinked and walked over to a computer   
monitor. "Look, there's no way that guy could have been killed by the game itself."  
  
Scully hissed. "Psst. We haven't guessed that he was killed by the game yet."  
  
Phoebe's eyes flew wide. "You didn't?"  
  
"I did." Mulder said.  
  
"But you didn't say anything," Scully argued.  
  
"I know. It doesn't come up for another few lines."  
  
They both glared at Phoebe.  
  
Phoebe ground her toe into the floor. "Um... anyway. He wasn't. I can prove it...   
um..."   
  
Scully let loose an exasperated sigh and flippen on the computer. "You can prove it by   
showing us the footage from the game."  
  
"Oh, yes." Phoebe sat down, and said in a Professional-voice. "Last minute plots,   
Incorporated, is the cutting edge of gaming. We have the latest technology, as you've seen   
earlier in the episode for no other reason than the latter." She tapped a few keys. "This game   
is all virtual reality, taking place in a..." She made a little quote-thing with her fingers.   
"...'game space'..." Quote-quote. "...that really consists of some boring white-washed room.   
The blasters are just plastic, about as harmless as a Nintendo joystick. Their suits have   
sensors in them -- if shot by the game, it will produce a little shock, but nothing more.   
Nothing that could -kill- anyone... Hey, are you two listening?"  
  
Scully blinked.  
  
Mulder blinked.  
  
Phoebe sighed. "Anyway, although I've only watched about thirty-and-a-half seconds of   
footage so you guys can find the evidence first, I'm going to say in all professionalism --   
nothing happened."  
  
"We'll just -see- about that," Mulder said Mulder-ishly.  
  
Scully nodded.  
  
Phoebe sighed again and hit a key. The moment the video flipped on, her head drooped   
like a robot shutting down, due to the fact that she had and will have an inabiltity to keep   
a careful eye on the characters when in the 'game space' for the rest of the episode.  
  
Scully watched.  
  
"Ooh, Pong." Mulder said.  
  
Dorky-Nerd ran across the street and into the bleak, dreary building on the computer   
monitor. Scully shook her head sadly at Chris as he waved a check around and crossed her arms   
over her chest. A scream echoed out from somewhere off the set as she mistakenly shone the   
laser at eye level from beneath an elbow.  
  
Mulder pointed at the screen. "Ooh! Lookie!"  
  
A voluptuous woman strutted around in the game space.  
  
Scully's lip turned up slightly at the sight of her getup. "That can -not- be   
comfortable."  
  
Mulder slapped Phoebe across the back. "Wake up!"  
  
She snorted in surprise and lifted her head to look at the scantily-clad woman. "Wait!   
This isn't right! It's just... eerie and paranormal and stuff..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Pause it." Mulder said, waving his hand wildly toward the screen.  
  
Phoebe hit a key. It paused.  
  
Mulder looked very closely. "Well, it's a woman."  
  
It was Scully's turn to mock-applaud.  
  
Phoebe hit a few buttons, and it zoomed in and rotated the image -- for the purpose of   
capturing every sweat-inducing inch of marvelous flesh.  
  
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.  
  
"Print that off." Mulder said.  
  
"Why?!" Scully exclaimed. "I mean," She pointed at the Scantily-Clad-Woman with her   
laser, and continued, "She's a computer character. Animated. And, knowing that you're going to   
argue and completely dismiss everything I have to say about this because you're always right,   
I'm going to stress something else as well -- it's not like people are going to have a hard   
time finding a busty woman in her underwear."  
  
Phoebe handed Mulder a piece of paper.  
  
Mulder looked at the Scantily-Clad Woman.  
  
Scully rolled her eyes. "Oh, now I see."  
  
"Are you sure?" Mulder asked, as he turned the printout toward her.  
  
Extreme close-up of the Scantily-Clad Woman.  
  
Scully sighed long and hard.  
  
Mulder brought the printout back and looked at it admiringly, before showing it to   
Pheobe. "What do you think?"  
  
He displayed the Scantily-Clad Woman.  
  
Scully dug her fingers into his arm and dragged him out the door. "We're leaving."  
  
"So soon?" Mulder asked. "Ow! My arm! Stoppit!"  
  
Phoebe waved. "Bye! Come again!"  
  
Mulder flapped his hand around at her until he was dragged out the door and it slammed   
shut behind him with another loud yelp.  
  
Scully released him, and started down the hall angrily.  
  
Mulder rubbed his shoulder and ran after her. "You didn't have to dislodge the nerves   
in my bicep, Scully."  
  
"There are worse things I can dislodge than your bicep, Mulder -- I guarantee it."  
  
Mulder grimaced.  
  
She started down the hall. "And now what?"  
  
Mulder started to unfold the printout.  
  
"No!" Scully slapped his hands. "NOT that."  
  
Mulder pouted.  
  
High-pitched squealing erupted from behind them.   
  
"Why are there ten year old girls running around, Mulder?" Scully asked, as she looked   
back over her shoulder curiously.  
  
"Umm..." Mulder said, making a face.  
  
"Eee! It's Daryl Mushootme!" Langly screeched.  
  
"Daryl Mushootme?" Scully asked increduously.  
  
Phoebe stepped out from the room. "Daryl Mushootme. The reigning video-games expert."  
  
Scully lifted an eyebrow. "He does that for a living?"  
  
"Coooooollll..." Mulder sighed dreamily.  
  
Phoebe shrugged a bit.  
  
And out he came. Dressed in black from head to foot, the Asian man strode aruond the   
corner and down the hallway... escorted by the giddy, jumping Lone Gunmen. His shoulders swayed   
like an expert super-fighter, and in one black-gloved hand he held a large, really neat-o   
looking joystick like a scepter.   
  
Mulder was beginning to hyperventilate.  
  
Scully gave him a strange look and jolted him in the ribs. "You don't even know who   
this guy is."  
  
"Yeah," Mulder replied under his breath. "But he's supposed to be the epitome of   
testosterone, which happens to be a subplot in this episode."  
  
Scully made a face at the skinny, slightly pimply man. "How can you have a subplot   
when there isn't even a plot in the first place?"  
  
The small group passed them. Some guy playing the kazoo tweeted out the Mario theme   
mightily.  
  
Scully tried not to cry.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
...to be continued...  
  



	2. First-Person Lamer Part Two

Title: First Person Lamer (Part Two)  
Author: Goudess  
E-Mail: queequeg01@excite.com  
Rating: PG (Some dirty stuff.)  
Category: Blecch.  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Don't sue me.  
Summary: Mulder and Scully -continue- to struggle through this fan-fic.  
Spoilers: First Person Shooter. There are some references to Monday, Chinga, and The Unnatural.  
Author's Note: If you didn't like the first installment, you probably won't like the second.   
Sure, it's common logic -- I just thought that it'd be nice to warn you. Anywhoo, enjoy.  
  
  
  
First Person Lamer  
(The Lack of Talent Isn't Any Less Affordable)  
Part Two  
  
  
  
"Daryl Mushootme..." Mulder drooled. Like a mouse following Pied Piper, he danced after them.   
Scully hoped to hell that the Pied Piper didn't play music from Super Mario Brothers.  
  
"Mulder!" She yelled. "What about me?"  
  
"Um..." Mulder paused, although his feet still tappitied on the floor to the beat. "Why don't   
you go do an autopsy or something?"  
  
Scully sighed, and tried not to whine. She failed. "I alwaaaaays have to do the autopsies while   
you run off and do all the fun stuff! It's no faaaaaair..."  
  
"Fun stuff?" Mulder retorted. "Are you joking? I mean, what's so fun about chasing after bad   
guys and discovering new twists to a mystery. I'd rather be cutting up dead guys anytime!"  
  
Scully put her hands on her hips. "Alright. Go ahead."  
  
"Sculieee! You're supposed to be falling for this reverse-psychology thing!"  
  
She glared.  
  
"Besides, you're the one with a degree. I'm just some halfwit who gets to do stuff."  
  
Byers made a squeaking sound as Mushootme's jacket brushed his elbow.  
  
"Oop, gotta go." Mulder said, catching the very nasty look in her eye.   
  
He narrowly missed a fatally-aimed laser dot.  
  
  
  
  
Scully plopped down next to Dorky-Nerd in the autopsy room. She crossed her legs and swung a   
foot tiredly. "Well," She said to the very-quite dead guy. "Looks like it's just you and me."  
  
Dorky-Nerd wasn't much of a conversationalist.  
  
Scully sighed and rolled over a bit, so she could pull the sheet away from his face. He had a   
half-dreamy, half 'eek, I just got killed' expression twisting his features. She grabbed his   
jaw and moved his lips again, saying in a high-pitched tone. "Fox Mulder is the biggest clod   
that I have ever seen. I think we should rename this show the Scully-Files, Dana. Yes I do."  
  
"Thank you, Dorky-Nerd." She replied, as she shifted and jumped off the stretcher. Heaving a   
sigh, she brushed her hands on her pants and pulled out a tape recorder. "External   
examination -- The deceased is very icky to the touch."  
  
Somewhere, off the set, there was a round of highly sarcastic applause. Scully jeered, and   
continued.  
  
"Cause of death..." She walked in a small circle, looking over the remains of Dorky-Nerd. "I'm   
guessing it's the giant hole in his chest-" Quickly, she lifted a glare to the potential   
applauders.  
  
Mulder walked in. "Hey babe."  
  
Scully raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"  
  
He sat down where Scully had been a few moments earlier, pushing Dorky-Nerd aside a touch to   
get comfortable. "So... what have you got?"  
  
Scully made a face at him, and would have made a dry comment if she hadn't noticed that   
something was amiss. "Hey... wait a minute... Where's heart-throb Mushootme?"  
  
A gurney conveniently was shoved into the autopsy room, where it slammed into the opposite   
wall and rolled into a corner.  
  
Scully raised an eyebrow. "Ow."  
  
Mulder frowned and sat back. "He kinda-sorta got killed."  
  
"By the game?"  
  
"By her." Mulder held up the printout.  
  
He displayed the Scantily-Clad-Woman.  
  
Scully rolled her eyes.  
  
Mulder nodded. "He was so cool looking, too. He did this whole Terminator bit... bambambam...   
like a pro... darted through the game without pause... and got hacked up by a really big sword.   
She even said something to him."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It was in Japanese... guunyuu o kudasai."  
  
Scully lifted an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"  
  
Mulder twisted his lips. "Roughly, with careful translation, we found that it's basically   
equivalent to 'Got Milk?"  
  
Scully made a face.  
  
"Hey, I'm not the one who said it."  
  
Scully heaved a groan and sat down next to him. "I can't see how it could happen."  
  
"You ever see the Matrix?"  
  
Scully looked at him strangely. "Huh?"  
  
Mulder slid her a small paperback. "Adapted from the movie." It had obviously been heavily   
studied, judging by the episode writer-shaped salsa fingerprints that stained each page.   
"See -- reality is judged by what we perceive, and only that. It says that -everything- is   
really nothing more than electrodes that our mind picks up."  
  
"Ahh, gotcha. Thanks."  
  
"No prob."  
  
After a moment she glanced at Mushootme and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Well. What do you   
think we are dealing with?"  
  
"You ever see the Matrix?"  
  
She gave him a dirty look. "That won't fly, Mulder."  
  
He sighed and stood up. "Alright, fine... As of now, I can only see one suspect."  
  
"Who?"  
  
He showed her the printout.  
  
Extreme close-up of the Scantily-Clad-Woman.  
  
"Arrg! Will you STOP that!?" Scully cried.  
  
"What, this?" Mulder held up the printout again.  
  
He displayed the Scantily-Clad-Woman.  
  
Scully hissed and made way to kill him, flipping on her laser-pointer.  
  
Mulder eelped. "Eelp!" He took the printout in both hands and held it up in front of his face   
for cover.  
  
Extreme close-up of the Scantily-Clad-Woman.  
  
"Mulder!" Scully screeched. It was then when she tore it away from him.  
  
"Scully!" Mulder cried as she darted away.  
  
"Ha-ha!" Scully gloated in a Simpson bully-esque voice.  
  
"Scullieee!" Mulder leaped after her, and they were soon doing a helter-skelter around   
Dorky-Nerd's gurney. Scully would dart at one side, Mulder would move to intercept her, and   
she'd dart in the other direction, starting the process all over again.  
  
"Scully, that's EVIDENCE!" Mulder said breathlessly. "You can't play keep-away with evidence!"  
  
Scully brushed out of his grasp again and stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
"C'mon, Scully!" Mulder cried again, this time taking another avenue. "Let me have one more   
look, and then I'll leave you alone! Promise."  
  
Scully stopped. "Promise?"  
  
Mulder stopped, directly across from her. "Promise." He repeated solemnly.  
  
She lifted her chin graciously and started to hand it over... but being a Scully as she was,   
she quickly came to her senses and tore it in two.  
  
Mulder paled. "Scullliee!!"  
  
Spastically she continued to rip it to shreds until it was confetti, and she soon was dropping   
it over Dorky-Nerd's body while turning on her heels and storming away to tear a tin of sharp   
autopsy implements into her arms.  
  
Mulder turned pale. "Scully! Look what you did!" He pitifully picked up a piece of the printout   
and looked at it sadly.  
  
Extreme close-up of Sc--  
  
His lip trembled.  
  
--ad-Woman  
  
of Scantily-Clad Wo--  
  
Scully managed to gloat without losing her scowl... quite a disturbing expression indeed.  
  
Mulder hugged the shards of his printouts to his chest and tried not to sob.  
  
"Oh, cry me a river." Scully scoffed as she pulled the sheet off Mushootme.  
  
"That depends on whether you jump in it or not." Mulder glowered.   
  
Scully sighed. "Oh, come on. It was just a picture. And not even a very good one at that!" She   
pulled out a mallet and flipped on her tape recorder. "Prepping for the internal examination."  
  
"You're evil, Scully."  
  
"And I also never have to LOOK at that ridiculous computer-woman again."  
  
Just then Mr. Skeptic walked in. "We have that Computer Woman in custody."  
  
Mulder brightened. "Really! And I didn't even have to do anything! Isn't this great, Scully!"  
  
"But we weren't sure if we had the right one..." Mr. Skeptic continued, "So I brought a Polaroid   
photo along just in case."   
  
He held it up.  
  
He displayed the Scantily-Clad Woman.  
  
Scully clenched her mallet.  
  
  
  
  
A plot skip later the Agents were pulling up in front of the Testosterone-Seeping local police   
station.  
  
"Ugh, what is that -smell-?" Scully said with an 'ick' etched into her features.  
  
"Men, Scully." Said Mulder. "Icky, smelly men. Pew." He waggled his hands around by the wrists.  
  
Scully gave him a look.  
  
Mr. Skeptic followed them out of the car. There was a mallet-sized bruise in the side of his   
head.  
  
"Well, this is it." Mulder said. "Time to meet the killer."  
  
Scully sighed and looked at her watch. "Fat chance. We're only halfway through the episode."  
  
Mr. Skeptic raised a finger. "Now hear me out-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Mulder walked off.  
  
Scully followed.  
  
Inside the police station were a bunch of men in clown costumes. They all waved and honked   
little-bike horns in greeting.   
  
"Oop," Mulder said. "Almost forgot." He tugged on a rainbow-colored wig.  
  
Scully gave him wide eyes.  
  
"Check the script, Toots." Mulder said quite nonchalantly, although he was already twisting on   
his red rubber-ball nose.   
  
Scully twisted her face. "The subplot?"  
  
"Yup. Males fed by male-like urges."  
  
"...to dress like clowns."  
  
"No!" Mulder threw up his hands. "Are you totally blind! These costumes are just   
symbolism -- who needs acting skills when you can just stick some idiot in a clown suit and   
be done with it?"  
  
"Oh. I see." Scully rolled her eyes and walked toward the holding area.  
  
Mulder watched her go as something started to push into his mind.  
  
Scully pushed past the cartwheeling merry-men and made her way to the door that was marked   
"Interogateshun Roum" in purple crayon.   
  
From behind her she finally heard Mulder blurt. "Heeey! Wait a minute!"  
  
Scully sighed and pushed the door open.  
  
Mulder tore off his wig and stormed in the direction Scully had gone. "Can you believe that   
guy, Scully! He has absolutely no respect for us as professionals! I'm a big name actor, here!   
I don't stoop to this kind of level, I mean--Ooh! Cotton candy!"  
  
Scully wasn't listening. Sitting before her was the most voluptuous woman she had ever seen.  
  
Mulder came striding in, happy as can be and picking cotton candy off a stick he had obviously   
found on the floor, judging by the grit dotting it here and there. "Guess what -I- got, Scu-"   
He caught sight of the Scantily-Clad-Woman then, and his jaw suddenly dropped.   
  
The Scantily-Clad-Woman crossed one shapely leg over another.   
  
"--Scully." Mulder finished, although the life had dropped from his voice.  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman slowly, slowly, traced her tongue along her thick upper lip. "So," She   
said. "What's the deal? I've been locked up in here all... night... long..."  
  
"Deal? There's no big deal. You're free to go." Mulder said, hypnotized.  
  
Scully elbowed him.   
  
"Ow, Scully. Watch it. Why are you looking at me like that, Scully? What did I do thi-" He   
looked over at Scantily-Clad-Woman and paled. "Erm... I mean... we have to ask you a few   
questions."  
  
"Oh. Oh really." She wriggled around in her plastic seat and heaved her upper body forward and   
toward them.  
  
(Be suave, Mulder... be suave.) "So," he found himself saying. "Killed anyone inside of   
computers lately?"  
  
Scully slapped her forehead.   
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman batted her eyes dumbly.   
  
"Erm, I mean..." Mulder stammered.  
  
"Look. There's a likeness of you inside of this computer game, and the game has caused the   
deaths of a bunch of not-so-important guys." Scully said.  
  
"Two..." Mulder said. "Two not-so-important guys."  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman raised a sculpted brown brow. "Aaand..."  
  
"...And we need a lead..." Scully urged with her hands.  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman shrugged. "Um, how about... 'A rolling stone gathers no moss...?'"  
  
Scully dropped her arms and gave her a pointed look.   
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman just sat blankly for a moment.  
  
"Last-Minute Plots, Incorporated." Scully finally said, positively disturbed. "Scanning   
prograaam..."  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, and then hefted herself up in order to   
tug a wad of toilet paper out from under her bottom. She unfolded it and began to read.  
  
Scully felt her bottom lip tremble.  
  
Mulder craned his neck. "Hey! Hers is written in a darker eyeliner than mine! And -I- can act!"  
  
Scully frowned at him and pulled off his sticky clown nose.  
  
"Oh-oh!" Scantily-Clad-Woman exclaimed. "I got it!"  
  
"And." Scully crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
"It was in the script all along... imagine that!" She laughed.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Charming. Go on."  
  
"There's this company called Last-Minute-Plots Incorporated. They used this scanning program."  
  
Scully hissed under her breath.  
  
"What?" She asked.  
  
"A little more? Please. We haven't got all night."  
  
"On me. They used this scanning program on me."  
  
"What's a scanning program?" Mulder asked.   
  
"Well, they laid me out naked in this little thing that reminds me of a tanning booth. Then   
they let these soft blue lights tingle along every inch of my flesh..."  
  
Mulder let out a squeaking-groan.  
  
"And that did what...?" Scully went on, unaffected.  
  
"Yes, tell us again." Mulder said dreamily. "Maybe even demonstrate."  
  
"Don't listen to him!" Scully snapped. "Just -talk- already!"  
  
A crewman walked past Scantily-Clad-Woman casually, humming a tune. As he fell into step behind   
her he silently slipped a sheet torn out of a brown paper bag into her hands. Then, whistling   
all the while, he walked off.  
  
Scully sneered and whipped out her laser. Within an instant there was a loud cry and a thud.  
  
Mulder stared vacantly into space.  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman slowly read what was on the sheet of paper out loud. "Um... Well, here's   
the story in a little more detail, on account that I like to help out whenever I can. Said   
semi-sarcastically. Okay... um... They paid me money to scan my body, Last-Minute-Plots 'Ink'.   
And... um... dangit." She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. Unfortunately that didn't help   
her speed. It took all of Scully's effort not to flip on her laser pointer again. "Um... where   
was I. Oh, here -- They paid me money to scan my body... Darn. Already said that. Hold on.   
Um..."  
  
Mulder gazed at her airily. "Like words from an angel."  
  
"Um... here... And I guess when they scan my body that means that they can impound.. wait..   
not 'impound'..." She narrowed her eyes again. "-Import-. Heh. Silly me. That means they can   
import my body into the system, but it's just an image. Not me."  
  
Scully let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you. That's al-"  
  
"And on a further note," Scantily-Clad-Woman continued. "The scanning process affected my   
memory and some of my thinking skills. Ad-lib the following. This is why I am not knowing my   
lines and keep forgetting how to stay in character. Laughs. What are those little half-circle   
thingies, anyway?"  
  
Scully tried to restrain the pulsing in the center of her forehead. "Come on, Mulder. Lets go."  
  
Mulder was like a brick wall. Only more Mulder-ish. "No... Scully... I think we should listen   
to what she has to say." His voice was droning and blank.  
  
Scully made a face at the saliva glistening on his lower lip. "She's done, Mulder."  
  
"Oh, no, Scully."  
  
She paused. "Oh no, what?"  
  
"Huh?" Mulder stared at the Scantily-Clad-Woman.  
  
Scully heaved a groan. "Lets -go-."  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman started to push herself up. "If that's all...?"  
  
"Yes." Scully said as she tugged helplessly at Mulder.  
  
Scantily-Clad-Woman looked strangely at the small redhead hanging off the man's arm, and then   
with a twittering grimace she handed Mulder a business card. "If you need my services."  
  
Mulder stared blankly at her.  
  
And she strode away.  
  
Scully felt herself being dragged across the floor. To her right and to her left were dancing   
clowns and juggling pins, an array of color and... testosterone.  
  
Mulder continued to follow the Scantily-Clad-Woman. However, he felt himself jerked to a stop   
by a heavy appendage at his backside. He slowly turned around and looked to find Scully lodged   
between two desks, still clinging to his leg.  
  
"M-Mulder..." She gasped.   
  
"Scully! Move! I have to get that girl's telephone number!"  
  
Scully rolled her eyes as best she could under the pain. "Uh-huh."  
  
Mr. Skeptic skipped over. "What she's trying to say is, the possibilities with someone like you   
and someone like her -ever- connecting is equivalent to Mulder dying four times in one episode."  
  
"Um... that happened to us already."  
  
Mr. Skeptic blinked twice. "Oh, uh... Attacks by killer dolls?"  
  
"Nope." Scully shook her head.  
  
"Aliens playing baseball?"  
  
"Nice try."  
  
Mr. Skeptic threw up his hands. "Okay, it's about as probable as this episode bringing up   
ratings."  
  
"Aaah..." Scully nodded and whacked Mulder's calf from where she was on the floor. "You hear   
that, Mulder. When pigs fly!"  
  
"I think that's going to be an episode in Season 8, Sc-OW!" Mulder hissed and jumped on one   
foot. "You're a violent little sucker, do you know that! Besides," Mulder proudly held out   
Scantily-Clad-Woman's business card. "-She- gave me her info. Tell me she's not interested."  
  
"She's not interested." Mr. Skeptic and Scully chimed.  
  
A clown tumbled over. "Heey-hey! I'm Chester the Cliché Clown! And you just-"  
  
Scully got out her laser-pointer.  
  
Mulder and Mr. Skeptic covered their eyes.   
  
Chester pointed to his little pouty-face and put his hands on his hips. "Now-now. That laser   
gag has been used to the point of pointlessness." He threw back his head. "Ho-ho! That last one   
was certainly clever of me. Ha-ha!"   
  
"Hey, there's a number on this card!" Mulder cried gleefully.   
  
Chester and Mr. Skeptic suddenly forgot most everything that they were doing. Mr. Skeptic   
tugged on a clown-wig.   
  
Scully sighed, rolled her eyes, and tapped her fingers on Mulder's foot.  
  
"Imagine that, guys!" Mulder was saying. "A phone number on a business card. Isn't that great,   
Scully."   
  
She set her teeth and flipped on her laser.  
  
"Now, now," Chester said, "What did I tell you about the laser gag--" Suddenly, the   
laser-pointer went whipping up and smacked him head-on, right between the eyes. His finger, in   
mind-raise, dropped with the rest of him. Thud. Scully opened her hand, and the laser-pointer   
fell in her palm. She blew across the top all suave-like.  
  
Mulder, oblivious to most everything around him, gawked at the business card.  
  
"What does it say," Mr. Skeptic said, bouncing on his toes. "What's her name? Read it, read it!"  
  
"Duuh-read?" Mulder asked. However, it soon hit him, and he blubbered out the contents of the   
card. "Ahem. For Nights of Erotic Pleasure and other Sexy Things Like That, contact the   
Stunning, the Wondrous, the Long-Legged and the All around Good-Looking..."  
  
Mulder paused, and his face went white. Like a Chester on flying-laser-pointer his eyes rolled   
back, and he fell flat on his back in a dead faint. Mr. Skeptic and Scully exchanged glances.   
Scully, not having much of anything to cling to anymore, slid up to her feet and walked over   
Mulder's limp frame, before plucking the card off his chest.  
  
"...Contact the Stunning," Scully read. "The Wondrous, the Long-Legged and the All Around   
Good-Looking...Greg."  
  
"Greg?" Mr. Skeptic chortled. "Y-You mean...She's a..."  
  
"Actually," Scully said, "-He's- a--"  
  
Too late. Mr. Skeptic hit the floor.  
  
Scully sighed, dropped her arms... and took an opportunity to kick Mulder in the side.  
  
Expressive therapy.  
  
  
  
Mulder followed Scully into the room labeled ~*Some Important Plot Fillers*~ in Last-Minute   
Plots, Inc. and rubbed at a strange ache in his side. Scully, meanwhile, was whistling   
pleasantly all the while, playing with her laser-pointer. They opened the door and stepped in   
to find Phoebe Grey sitting at her computer monitor, head drooped and eyes closed.  
  
"This episode is going to hell." Mulder said.  
  
"Someone important must be in the game-space!" Scully said bleakly, trying to sound scared and   
urgent like she was supposed to. Playing with her toy, she ambled toward the desk and looked   
over Phoebe's shoulder. "Or not. It's just the Lone Gunmen." She stomped a foot and whined a   
little. "Do we have to saaaave them?! I just want to go hoooo-ooome."  
  
Mulder looked at his watch. "We still have twenty minutes left."  
  
"Twenty minutes? You're kidding!"  
  
"Twenty-two minutes, to be exact."  
  
Scully sighed and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest all frumpy-like. "We should have   
just gone with the swamp-gas mutant. And don't tell me that I'm wrong, because I'm not."  
  
Mulder pulled out his Polaroid.  
  
Scully snatched it out of his hand and threw it as far as she could before he got a chance to   
look at it. Mulder glared at her for a moment or two, and then crossed his arms and huffed as   
well, doing a pretty decent imitation of Scully at that point. They stood like that, Mulder   
looked at his watch, and then they stood some more.  
  
"Okay," He finally said. "Twenty minutes."  
  
Scully sneered.  
  
"Wake her up, Scully. We need to ask her about..."   
  
"...About Greg?" She finished smugly.  
  
"Just be quiet and wake her up."  
  
Scully, hardly shifting out of her grumpy crossed-armed position, kicked the back of Phoebe's   
chair. She went smashing forward, plummeted into her desk, and bounced back. Her head snapped   
to and fro, and she woozily looked around the room. Mulder and Scully cleared their throats.   
  
She blinked. "Uh..."  
  
"Howdy," Mulder said.  
  
"What can you tell us to get this thing over with," Scully asked.  
  
"Um..."  
  
Scully pounded a fist into her palm.  
  
"Oh!" Phoebe cried. "Yeah, now I remember! Langly, Frohike and Byers were going to go into the   
game and do some nifty technical thing, for no reason other than to get themselves into trouble   
and ultimately draw either one or both of you into the game to rescue them before the episode's   
through!"  
  
"And oh-mi-gosh!" Phoebe said again, putting a hand on either cheek and making her lips into a   
perfect "o" shape as she turned stiffly around and looked at the computer monitor. "The game   
started, even though we were supposed to keep it off! It turned itself on, all by itself!   
That's so creepy and weird and sooo unpredictable and stuff! They're trapped! Oh, woe! Whatever   
are we going to dooo?!"  
  
"Gee, I don't know." Scully muttered.  
  
Mulder puffed out his chest. "I'll save them!"  
  
"Mulder..." Scully started. By this point she had caught sight of the ridiculous pose he had   
struck, and whatever whiny argument she had went flying out the window and crashed onto thick   
pavement. "Fine. Whatever. Have fun."  
  
"I will, Scully!" Mulder, chest still extended, strutted stiffly out the door.  
  
"I want my goddamn free doughnuts," Scully said.  
  
  
  
  
  
. . .To Be Continued. . .  



	3. First-Person Lamer Part Three

Title: First-Person Lamer (Part Three)  
Author: Goudess  
E-Mail: queequeg01@excite.com  
Rating: PG (A couple dirty-words.)  
Category: I'd label this as a parody, but then I wouldn't have anything to call the   
episode I'm basing it on.   
Disclaimer: I checked into it. I still don't own them.  
Summary: Will it ever end? Will it? ....Chances are, yes.  
Spoliers: First Person Shooter. No, I did not watch it a gazillion times. My stomach isn't that strong. I just know where to find episode summaries. ^_~  
Author's Note: It kind of took me a while to get the final installment up. I've been working on my more dramatic pieces, and haven't been much in the parody-mood. Because of that very fact I'm still worried that this won't much match the previous installments -- be that a good or bad thing. =P Thanks to those who reviewed, especially the fans of First-Person Shooter who were so good natured about my mockery of it. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, I think... and hey, if not for FPS, I wouldn't have been able to have so much fun with it. These kind of pieces are always so enjoyable to write. ^_^ And, without futher ado...   
  
  
  
First-Person Lamer  
Part Three  
(The Lack of Talent Leaves the Stage. Be Blessed.)  
  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this." Byers said nervously, as the game space whirrled into life around them and they were absorbed into the grody city scene. He was immediately struck across the back of the head with a plastic laser-blaster. The Lone Gunmen were crouching behind the wedge-type thingy in the game space, dressed in silly Nerdito-Esque costumes. Why, no one was quite sure.  
  
"Moron!" Langly said.  
  
"Fool!" Frohike said.  
  
"Snarf-muffin!" Langly said.  
  
Frohike and Byers blinked.  
  
"I clammed up." Langly admitted with a shrug.  
  
"Anyway," Frohike continued, lifting his hands in order to wave them angrly at Byers. "Just what do you think you are doing, anyway? 'I have a bad feeling about this?' What do you want to do, jinx us!"  
  
"Not to mention the fact that saying stuff like that is the cheapest form of foreboding," Langly added snidely.  
  
"Exactly!" Frohike cried. "I mean, sure... we know that everyone who has -ever- entered the game space has met up with a painful demise--"  
  
"Two people," Langly said. "Everyone as in two people."  
  
"--And that Mulder is going to rush down here to try and save us from something evil and not-nice-like..."  
  
"And..."  
  
Both men paused, and looked down at their watches.  
  
"Well," Langly said. "That took up a few minutes."  
  
"Two and three-quarters." Frohike said. "Now it's three."  
  
"This may be kind of off-subject, but I really do feel lucky today." Byers said.  
  
It was about then when he was shot right off his feet.  
  
  
  
  
A cheap, mechanicized voice suddenly filled the air.  
  
...10  
9  
8  
  
"What's going on?" Scully asked from where she stood in the control room.  
  
"This is the countdown." Pheobe replied.  
  
7  
6  
  
"...What are we counting down for?"  
  
"I dunno." Pheobe shrugged. "It's more dramatic this way."  
  
5  
4  
3  
  
"Dramatic? Why?"  
  
"I don't know. That's what makes it dramatic." Pheobe wriggled her fingers around. "What, oh -what- will happen next! Oooh! Booo!"  
  
2  
  
"...You're insane." Scully said.  
  
1  
  
Cue-Ominous Tough-Guy Music  
(Dun-dun-duuuun!)  
  
From the computer monitor, Scully watched a spray of mist fill a small room on the screen. There was a hiss and creak as a heavy metal door slid open. A lone figure, shrouded in obscurity, stepped cooly out into the open. He had exchanged his standard-issue business suit for something better fitted for a cast member of the Rocky Horror Picture show, and with a clean and smooth movement he slipped on a suave pair of shades.  
  
Mulder tried cooly cocking his plastic blaster with one hand. Unfortunately, it was indeed plastic and hence did not cock. He looked down at it, frowned, fiddled, and eventually resorted to flipping it up and down and making a 'clicking' motion with his tongue.  
  
Scully put her head in her hands.  
  
"Shh!" Pheobe cried. "He's going to say something macho!"  
  
Mulder waited until the camera panned ultra-close to his face, and with a little twitch of his eyebrow and jaw, he said in his darkest, most masculine tone:  
  
"Ain't no lie, baby bye-bye-bye."  
  
He then proceeded to do some jiggy puppet-like dance motions.  
  
"Do you think if we turned off the game it would kill him?" Scully asked hopefully.  
  
  
Blaster fire blared out all around the huddling Lone Gunmen, sparking and twanging shrilly.   
  
"That's it," Frohike said over the melee. "We're going to die."  
  
"Dead." Langly agreed.  
  
"Just like Byers."  
  
"I'm not dead," Byers said from where he was sprawled out on the ground.  
  
"He was a good man." Frohike said.  
  
"A little fruity, you know," Langly added, doing a little finger-wriggle.  
  
"Yeah, I always wondered about that."  
  
"Did he ever come on to -you-? I think there was this one time--"  
  
"Hey!" Byers snapped.  
  
"Yup. This is it. Dead. We're going to be dead. Just like fruity ol' Byers."  
  
There was a sudden hiss and a roar, as the door behind them slid open in a spray of mist. Langly let out a squeaky little scream and jumped.  
  
"It's... okay," Mulder said macho-ly as he did a little hip-shifting swagger out into the open. He bounced his gun powerfully on his shoulder and posed a little. "I'm here..." Head-shift, head-shift, dramatic pause. "...To save you. There is no need to..." Shift-pause. "Be...afraid..." Shift. "...Of the game anymore." Hip-cock.  
  
"Eee! Look what he's wearing!" Langly squeaked from Frohike's lap, where he was huddling in terror.   
  
Mulder's tough-guy ruse faded a little as he glanced down at his silly sleeveless muscle shirt.   
  
"And are those retro-velcro boots?!" Byers asked from the ground.  
  
"Hold me!" Langly cried.  
  
Mulder shifted and self-consciously switched his blaster to his other shoulder. "Uh... anyway, the door is open. You guys can scoot, now."  
  
"Did he just say 'scoot'?" Frohike whispered.  
  
"Just get the hell out of here!" Mulder snapped irritably.  
  
Langly and Frohike scrambled to their feet and ran out the open door.  
  
"Um... hey..." Byers said. "Guy on the ground, here...?"  
  
"Good God!" Mulder cried. "They killed Byers!"  
  
"I'm not dead, damnit!"  
  
  
Meanwhile, in the control room...  
  
"Hmph. Byers died." Phoebe said.  
  
"Yeah. He was a good guy. A little fruity, but..."  
  
"Look!" Phoebe cried. "Mulder's making his way down the street!" And sure enough, Mulder's image on the screen was doing a high-kneed little jounce across the game space. "What is he doing? Why isn't he coming out with everyone else?"  
  
The Scantily-Clad Woman did a provocative little hip-jiggle from the other end of the screen.  
  
Scully rolled her eyes. She wasn't able to make one of her snappy, dry-as-dirt comments, however, as Langly and Frohike came bursting into the room, all in a tizzy.   
  
"Mulder's still in the game!"  
  
"And he's dressed like Chachi on acid!"  
  
"We know," Phoebe said.  
  
"Trust me," Scully added with a sigh. "We know."  
  
"We have to get him out!" Langly said.  
  
"We have to turn off the game!"  
  
"That's impossible!" Phoebe cried.  
  
"...No..." Frohike said slowly. "It is a computer. We make a kill switch. Game go buh-bye. Simple as that."  
  
"It isn't!" Phoebe argued. "You can't just turn it off! It isn't that simple!"  
  
"Says who?" Langly demanded.   
  
"Uh... The Computer God...?" Phoebe tried.  
  
"Somehow, I sense that you're not telling us something."  
  
"I wonder if the Computer God wears a tie with his toga..." Frohike mused.   
  
"Okay, okay, you broke me! I'll tell!!" Phoebe wailed dramatically.  
  
"But... we didn't do anything!"  
  
"Stop, it's too much! I gave in already, you don't have to--"  
  
"No, really, we didn't..."  
  
"Sheesh, I wasn't even that serious, lady!"  
  
Phoebe pulled out her copy of the script and blew her nose on it. "It's me, it's all my fault!"  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Can you imagine how awful it is, working all day with these icky-peewy men?"  
  
Frohike discreetly lifted an arm and sniffed.  
  
"There's so much testosterone, it drove me nuts!"  
  
"That isn't an understatement," Langly muttered.  
  
"So..." Phoebe sniffed. "So..." Sniff. "So I created something of my own, of my very, very own... something that doesn't fit into this stupid mass of men-driven interests in this men-filled world... So I created her. Playmate2000."  
  
Langly and Frohike blinked.  
  
"Playmate2000 is my silent, secret battle against men and their oppression." Phoebe finished, dabbing at her eyes. "That's why I can't turn the game off. That's why I can't let anyone kill her. She's mine, and I don't want to loose her. I'm..." Sob. "So sorry!" Snarfle.  
  
"Wait... wait... let me get this straight," Scully said flatly. "Your statement against masculinity is a thick-lipped busty bombshell in a black leather thong?"  
  
"Damn," Frohike said. "Why can't all feminists think like you?"  
  
Phoebe didn't answer, as she had curled up under the desk to wail pitifully to herself.  
  
"Sucks to be her," Langly said. "Now, let's figure out how to beat this thing!"  
  
"Go-go Power Rangers!" Frohike chanted.  
  
  
On the screen, Mulder was attempting to do stylish little flips with his blaster for the Scantily-Clad Woman, who was watching him with a blank expression. She would hold up her sword to destroy him, Mulder would extend a hand for her to wait, and then he bent over awkwardly with his bum in the air to pick up the gun, only to drop it again when he gave another attempt at flipping it. The Scantily-Clad Woman began tapping a foot impatiently.  
  
"...Is there a way that we can just... I dunno, turn -him- off?" Scully asked.  
  
"Scully," Frohike said. "You have no soul."  
  
"Well, turn off the monitor so I don't have to see this, at least!" Scully whined.  
  
Phoebe continued to cry pitifully in the wake of her stand for feminist power.  
  
  
Sure enough, Mulder was impressing his way into an impending doom.   
  
"Stupid plastic piece of..." One hand had gone constantly in the air, the only thing between him and a computer-animated woman that wanted to impale him. Meanwhile, he tried to fumble with the thing. "You wouldn't happen to know how to turn this thing on, would you?"  
  
He was answered by a very shrill and unpleasant sounding ~clang~, as the Scantily-Clad Woman mightily swung her sword at him and missed, as villains often do when dealing with big-named heroes. Mulder let out a shrill little shriek, complete with arms-in-the-air action, and...  
  
  
  
"He dropped his gun." Scully said flatly.  
  
"He's doomed." Frohike added.  
  
"....He's running?"  
  
  
  
Indeed, Mulder -was- running. Unfortunately, he didn't quite know where to go, and ended up darting two and fro around the pillar that he and Playmate2000 were hanging around by. She looked like she was getting irritated, now, and batted at him with her hands--as her sword had gotten stuck firmly into the pillar's side--while he screeched and ducked, screeched and ducked. -Really- screeched. Ducked again.  
  
"Don't-touch-me-don't-touch-me-don't-touch-mee! Screech!"  
  
Mulder then promptly, and quite ungracefully at that, ran right smack into the side of the sword stuck in the pillar. His feet went into the air, and he landed on the ground with a well-placed thud.  
  
Everyone watching him on the monitor slapped their hands on their foreheads at precisely the same time.   
  
The Scantily-clad Woman blinked twice, and then shrugged. She bent over, legs straight and round thong-clad buttocks neatly extended, to pick up Mulder's discarded blaster. Cocking her hips a little, she aimed it at the man, who was beginning to groan and regain consciousness.  
  
He lifted his head just in time to see her cute little fingers tug at the trigger.  
  
And then there was a blast. And nothing. The Scantily-clad Woman's shapely legs went flying up, as she was knocked off her feet by a well-aimed laser-blast. Mulder's eyes went very wide from beneath his crooked shades, and he looked shockedly over his shoulder in the direction that the shot came from.  
  
Scully stood there, looking to be at the height of PMS, with a blaster professionally tucked into both hands.  
  
She was also in the tacky little black-vest getup. Mulder, despite his great relief to not have a hole through his head, could not resist a snorty little snicker.  
  
Scully, not amused, cocked her blaster.  
  
Mulder gulped.  
  
"Lets get out of here," she said.  
  
And then, suddenly, the game-space warped and twisted. Mulder screamed shrilly... again.  
  
  
  
"What's happening?" Langly asked.  
  
Frohike blinked and quickly minimized the !Free Gillian Anderson Erotic Alien-Probing Photo Extravaganza Forum! and tapped idly at the mouse. "Uh... I dunno."  
  
Langly narrowed his eyes. "It's... switching to the next level..."  
  
"Why are you surprised?" Frohike asked.  
  
"I dunno. Running across a street and into a building doesn't seem like a huge, difficult task to me, that's all. Furthermore, that chick's head is obviously pasted onto another woman's body."  
  
"I was wondering why she seemed Latino from the neck down."   
  
  
  
While the Lone Gunmen (minus Byers, who had strangely become obsolete) were fiddling with the main computer in the real world, Mulder was squeaking in terror in the fantasy one. Scully, meanwhile, looked from side to side warily, with her blaster ready. They were in some western setting, something that made the woman's eyes roll madly.  
  
However, the game space was vacant. She didn't like this.  
  
There was a crackle. "Scully?"   
  
The voice came from overhead. Mulder and Scully peered up into the bright blue sky.  
  
"Chris Carter?" Mulder asked meekly to the heavens.  
  
"Don't press your luck," Frohike said. "The episode isn't over yet. But that's not important right now. We need to get you out of here."  
  
"Obviously." Scully said.  
  
"But we've got to figure out a way to beat Playmate2000 first," Frohike said.  
  
"Playmate2000?!" Mulder exclaimed. His mouth made a cute little 'o' shape. Scully heaved a sigh and tapped her gun against her thigh.  
  
"That's right," another voice said. Scully and Mulder's heads snapped down from where they were looking, and on the other side of the street stood the Scantily-Clad Woman herself, scantily-clad as her name suggested and equally quite half-dressed like. She had a cute little cowboy hat on, and her leather-lace thong had a little Indian fringe.  
  
"Nifty." Mulder said.  
  
Scully cocked her jaw and swiftly punched a few rounds from her blaster. Playmate2000 flickered, and then twirled like a prop on a shooting range. And then, suddenly and much to Scully's dismay, she multiplied into a whole row of yummy sex-vixens.  
  
Mulder boggled. Scully could swear that the sky was panting. This, naturally, irritated her.  
  
The little chorus-line of Scantily-Clad Women did a little jangling shoot-from the hip retort. Scully dodged and fired, and Playmate2000 fired back...  
  
  
Langly set his chin in his palm. "This isn't working."  
  
"I'm trying to figure out a kill switch," Frohike said, "But I'm not getting anywhere. I-" His beady eyes began to fill up with tears, and his shoulders shook pathetically. "I just want to get past this..." Choke-choke. "...episode!" Gag. "Make it stop, Langly, oh make it stop!"  
  
"Oh, Frohike," Langly said. "Be a man!"   
  
He stuck a little red clown-nose on his friends face, and gave it a cute little pat.  
  
  
Scully hit the dust with a thud. Mulder's eyes widened and he shimmied over to her on his belly. "Scully! Psst! Scully! Are you alive?"  
  
Scully, coughing and gagging, bopped him atop of his head with a fist. "Why don't you -do- anything?! We're going to die!"  
  
"You have the blaster," Mulder replied promptly.  
  
"The blaster..." Scully said firmly. "...obviously...isn't working..."  
  
A shadow fell over them in mid-discussion. Mulder and Scully's heads turned up at the same time, a dusty and pitiful duo. Glistening and gorgeous, the Scantily-Clad Woman stood over them, her legs spread and her feet tightly apart in their little cowboy boots, a pair of pistols in hand.  
  
"Get along, little doggy." She said. Shook some boo-tay, you know the drill.  
  
Mulder, who was staring at her heaving chest, could only nod as if she had said the most brilliant thing possible, as opposed to another tacky little I'm-going-to-kill-you catch phrase. Scully, astounded, looked over at him and then stared disbelievingly up at Playmate2000.  
  
"I don't get it," She finally said. "I really don't."  
  
"I am everything that a man wants," Playmate2000 said. She motioned for Scully to get to her feet with a tip of one pistol. "Wit, intelligence..." She paused. "...And how do you say it?"  
  
"A nice rack?" Scully offered.  
  
"Yeah, that's it." She cocked her hips. "I'm beautiful and undefeatable. Perfect. I have no flaws, I have no imperfections...."  
  
She also seemed to have an inability to shut up. Being locked in some tacky boring game-space since the moment of one's existence has a tendency to do that to a person. This was fortunate for Scully, forever, on account that she had a few moments to check the girl out.  
  
Yes. Check the girl out.  
  
Mulder watched Scully's eyes start to roam with a little bit of surprise. His eyebrows went wide and then he shrugged a little. Maybe he'd get to see some action before he died. A man really couldn't ask for much more than that.  
  
But Scully was thinking something else entirely. Naturally.   
  
"My muscle tone is perfect, my hair never gets messy, I never smell bad... I have no weaknesses. Nothing. I am, quite simply... perfect."  
  
"Perfect?" Scully asked with a dry little cock of her head.  
  
"Perfect." The Scantily-Clad Woman confirmed.  
  
And Scully promptly planted her four-inch clunky heel right dab between Playmate2000's shapely legs.  
  
"Aaaagh!" Mulder cried.  
  
"Aaagh!" Frohike cried.  
  
"Aaagh!" Langly cried. "Pain-Infliction and she-male humor all in one!! We've hit the lowest of the low!"  
  
"I'm so ashamed." Frohike said.  
  
  
Playmate2000 made a painful, gaspy face, gripped herself, and plopped over onto her side in a stiff, straddled position. Mulder, eyes wide, stared blankly at the spectacle.  
  
Scully dusted off her shoe.   
  
Mulder stared.  
  
Scully tucked at her hair and set her hands on her hips tiredly.  
  
And Mulder stared.  
  
Scully felt a twinge of irritation. "What?"  
  
"You... just..." He blink-blinked. "Huh?"  
  
Scully threw her hands up. "Weren't you paying attention to anything for this entire episode?"  
  
Mulder stared.  
  
"...Greg...?" Scully said leadingly, gesturing down with her hands.  
  
Mulder paused thoughtfully to consider this statement--  
  
("Well," The Scantily-Clad Woman said in flashback mode, crossing one gorgeous shapely leg over another. "They laid me out naked in this little thing that reminds me of a tanning booth. Then they let these soft blue lights tingle along.... every..... inch....of my flesh...")  
  
--and then promptly came to a painfully nauseating and somewhat shocking realization.   
  
At that, he fainted.  
  
Which suited Scully just fine.  
  
  
  
"Scully!" Frohike cried.  
  
Scully walked nobly across the game space starting chute, supporting a woozy and mumbling Mulder on one shoulder.   
  
"I was -not- checking her out, I was -not- checking her out." Mulder garbled.  
  
"That was great, I can't believe you saved the day!"  
  
"And you didn't even write the episode!" Langly added.  
  
"I was -not- having sexual fantasies in which she and I were the key players, I was -not- having sexual fantasies in which...."  
  
Scully dropped her partner.   
  
"Ouch. The floor is cold, the floor is cold..."  
  
"Well, the mystery is solved," Langly said. "Phoebe created the monster that lives in the game. Scully defeated it. Case closed."  
  
"But wait..." Mulder said.  
  
"What do you mean, wait?"  
  
"This is an X-File," Mulder said. "There has to be a catch. There's always a catch." He wriggled his fingers up and down. "Creepy-twisty ending, woooo." He dropped his hands. "You know."  
  
Scully and the Lone Gunmen exchanged a glance.  
  
"Well, I guess while we're on the subject of hidden and obscure genders..." Scully said. "Mulder, I have something that I've been meaning to tell you..."  
  
Mulder's eyes rolled back in his head and plopped over for the third or fourth time this episode. Everyone else put their hands on their hips and lifted their faces in a hearty, family-sitcom-esque laugh.   
  
"Oh, that Mulder! He's such a card!" Frohike waggled a hand on its wrist.  
  
"Men." Scully said disdainfully.   
  
  
  
Meanwhile, some Evil-Corporation-Boss Guy slides behind the monitor of the computer room that runs the game space. Curious, but Evily-Curious mind you, he clicks on the !Free Gillian Anderson Erotic Alien-Probing Photo Extravaganza Forum!. His eyes widen a little, and then a brilliant (and evil!) look of joy slips all over his face like some gooey mud-mask (it's good for the pores...and evil!).  
  
He pushes his fingertips together and lets out a drawling, Simpsons-esque, "Eeexcelllent."  
  
Fade to black.  
  
  
  
Chris Carter pops up in a gaudy Hawaiian-print shirt and delivers a million-dollar-bleach-toothed-smile. With a bright and giddy thumbs-up, he proclaims:  
  
"I made money! Tee-hee-hee!"  
  
THE END.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Finally!" Scully cried. "I am -never- getting trapped into a crappy episode like this ever again! -Ever-!!" She gripped her hands into tight little fists.  
  
Mulder tugged off one of his ugly retro-gloves and nodded empathetically. "Damn straight -- we've learned our lesson... Hey, wait, Scully! Look!" Grinning madly, Mulder pointed to a large sign hanging ever-so-obviously on a nearby wall. "There are free spa sessions in the tap-dancing ghost section of Area 51!"  
  
"Oh, come on, Mulder! Are you -really- that stupid?"  
  
Mulder blinked blankly at her.  
  
Scully threw up her hands. "Nothing's -free-! They're just going to try and sell us stuff the whole time!"  
  
Mulder pouted. Both Agents stood around for a while, brooding in self-misery and whatnot. After a long pause, however, Scully lifted her head and looked into her partner's eyes. "Oh, what's the worse that can happen -- lets go!"  
  
"Yippie!" Mulder cried. "Things are looking up for us!"  
  
And as the duo exited, a man with a huge plastic garbage bag over his head came waddling in, looking about with a wad of toilet paper in one hand.   
  
"...Hey? Where's the guy that wanted the giant mutated swamp monster?" 


End file.
